


Yours truly, Grizz

by slytherubbish



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Epistolary, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, No Parallel Universe (The Society)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherubbish/pseuds/slytherubbish
Summary: I guess I should explain myself,It’s addressed to you merely because it’s got to be someone. ‘Dear, journal’ or ‘hey’ is too impersonal, and though we haven’t had a proper conversation, I’d like to.You might ask, why? and my only answer is this: you are wildly attractive and devastatingly beautiful. It’s the truth, I couldn’t make this stuff up.OR: Grizz can't find the courage to talk to Sam so he journals to him instead
Relationships: Sam Eliot & Gareth "Grizz" Visser, Sam Eliot/Gareth "Grizz" Visser
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46





	1. Merry belated Christmas,

**Author's Note:**

> I was in my dumb Jane Austen English elective class and I thought what if I wrote an epistolary fic?? Right but writing letters when they're not far away is stupid. So here I give you angsty journaling Grizz. 
> 
> The chapters are short but they'll come often. :)) thanks for being here

Dear Sam,

My mom got me this journal for Christmas. Well sort of and not really at the same time. Yeah, she bought it for me but we’re also kind of at the point where I pick out everything for my stocking. And this seemed like it would be good, seeing as it’s stocking sized and all.

My mom also disputed the idea of getting only books. She said something like “if you journal you’ll be able to handle your emotions better”. Though to my defense, my emotional intelligence has to be better than the majority of boys in our high school. Or just your typical male in our society.

Anyways I guess I should explain myself, This journal, it's addressed to you merely because it’s got to be someone. ‘Dear, journal’ or ‘hey’ is too impersonal, and though we haven’t had a proper conversation, I’d like to.

You might ask, _why?_ (or something along the lines of that) and my only answer is this: you are wildly attractive and devastatingly beautiful. It’s the truth, I couldn’t make this stuff up.

But if we’re _really_ getting personal, where else am I supposed to discuss having a massive gay crush on my classmate? Or really anything gay for that matter. Sometimes I think maybe life gives you what you need at the moment. Maybe it's selfish, but I think you're exactly what I need.

Maybe life, or God, or whatever anybody says it is, is keeping me on my toes. Dangling you right in front of my face until I get my shit together and take the bait. Who knows?

For real, you have no idea how much I'd like to suck it up and talk to you. We have all these classes together, and every day is a new personal struggle of whether I'll put myself out there or not. I'm afraid I'll fuck it all up, so I'm settling for prolonged glances.

I think that’s good enough for an opener. Welcome to my sad existence.

Merry belated Christmas,

Grizz

“For the speed of light is far away, and you, sooner or later must return to a deteriorated situation, and, placing your hand in the fire, say just what it means to you to be connected”

John Ashbery _Flow Chart_ (Page 17)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	2. See you at school,

* * *

Dear Sam,

It’s been a bit. Since it's the new year, it’s only right that I tell you my resolutions. So here they are as follows:

1\. Talk to you more (yes you Sam)

2\. Read more books (If it’s humanly possible)

3\. Think more positively (basic, but I had to add one unrealistic goal)

I spent my New Years' Eve at Clarke's (riveting I know). Honestly, I was so wasted that if you had been there we definitely would have kissed. I don’t think anyone would have remembered anyway.

I wonder what you think about my friends. Sure they can be stupid sometimes (okay most times), but they're kind of my family. I mean at least I don't have to worry about disappointing them all the time like I do with my parents. Maybe they wouldn't be that upset about me liking guys. Hey, more ladies for them. 

On the other hand, maybe they’re just like my parents. Maybe them, all of them, expect me to be this one-dimensional straight football player, and maybe that’s all I am. 

Anyway, the party was a complete success. All throw up landed in a toilet or sink, the neighbors didn't complain, and I think everyone had a good time.

Clarke last minute decided he wanted to shit into the new year. He actually did it too. I guess shit jokes and alcohol were more powerful than beautiful girls. 

Jason threw up an hour into our party, kept on drinking Smirnoff Ice, and then found Clarke’s weed. We found him outside on the golf course this morning.

Luke was preoccupied with Helena. What else did you think he would be doing? 

I had taken two and a half Xanax that Jason had on him, and then smoked a blunt. Before you say anything-I know bad idea. Actually, it was a really bad idea.

I spent half the night writing poetry (which I’ll never show you--its weird shit with Latin mixed in) and as soon as the countdown was over I was out. The details are foggy but I remember being on an epic search for a blanket and ending up in Clarke’s bed asleep. 

Driving home today was worse. Somehow it hadn’t dawned on me that the Xanax would last until the next day. When I was showering earlier I was certain my heart was going to stop. 

It didn’t I’m still here. 

I was so fucked though I almost snapped you, it’s a good thing I didn’t. What would I have even said? 

Maybe if you had been there something would have happened. I like to think I would have sparked up a riveting conversation, and you would have been so insanely charmed that I would've had more than a blanket with me in bed. But alas. 

I’ll just stick to vodka and, or weed next time I promise.

See you at school,

Grizz

“It all boils down to keeping quiet and having a good time. As long as you don’t abuse the orange trees standing in their pots so civil, well all will be yours next time too and let’s hear it for those who never won anything, whose time came and went like the tide leaving curious bones behind, and they were never cheated on and never lied, without telling anyone the truth.”

John Ashbery _Flow Chart_ (Page 30)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	3. Until next time,

Dear Sam,

I’ve been thinking about that thing our English teacher told us. How you don’t really know how you feel unless it’s written or said. I guess that’s what this is for, because writing everything down here is easily less embarrassing than actually confiding in someone.

Okay, that sounded pathetic when I wrote it out. You know what I mean though.

Anyways in the spirit of fulfilling my New Year’s resolutions, I talked to you today. Insane I know.

I walked in the library to check out Jane Eyre because I’ve never read the Brontës. I know Jane Eyre is a hefty start but it's something right? Boarding school and all that shit.

Yeah anyways you were sitting at a table near the shelf and I accidentally made eye contact (my eyes just gravitate toward you what can I say?)

So I said, “Hey Sam” like a motherfucking boss. (it wasn’t that cool but sometimes you have to be your own hypeman)

You said hey back, and I honestly hadn’t thought about what I would say after that so I didn’t? Again, not cool I know.

Give me a little leniency. I've never had feelings for someone like this. Sure I’ve been into people but you’re different.

You’re everything I’m not. You’re so kind to everyone around you, and you’ve got the brightest damn smile.

I think what makes me the most attracted to you is the way you’re so honest with the people around you. Even if it puts you at risk. Even if people don’t like you because of it.

That’s the difference between us. I’m a complete coward.

I’m terrified of what my friends would really think of me. If they really knew me I don’t think anything would be the same.

I’m terrified of my parents. It’s all up to dumb fucking luck if you have good parents or not. I just happened to be given parents who would gladly disown me if they knew. I just want to make my parents proud of something. 

I hate to leave this on such a sad note but not everything can be a fairytale.

Until next time,

Grizz

“Have you noted how things have a good way of working out but have you also noted how rarely this constitutes a satisfying set of circumstances, especially when we dream, not plan, them?”

John Ashbery _Flow Chart_ (pages 22-23)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	4. Thanks for listening,

Dear Sam,

I just threw this journal at the wall. You might think I’m being hyperbolic but I am absolutely not.

To recap today’s episode of Grizz and his parent’s heated arguments: I suggested majoring in English in college. To quote my angered father “c’mon Grizz you can’t make any fucking money doing that”. So encouraging. Then he went on about how he bought a nice house so I could go to a nice school and eventually have a high paying job. 

I zoned out after that. Through the years spent in discourse with my parents I’ve learned two things:

  1. Saying nothing is always better than trying to explain yourself.
  2. Sometimes you have to drown it all out. If the words don’t reach you they can’t hurt you.



Sometimes I wonder why they even thought about having a child if they don’t care enough to actually learn how to parent.

You might think I’m being ungrateful, maybe I am, but if you were there you’d understand.

I swear my mom just yells at me all the time too, I never feel like I can do anything to make her happy. No matter what I do. Star of the football team, top every fucking English class I’ve ever taken.

You know Aristotle thinks that teenagers can’t be happy. That you can only know how happy your life is when you look back at the end of it. He also says something about achieving, that you’ve gotta be healthy and smart and have friends and everything else.

I think he’s right though. I’m not sure that I’ll ever know my true happiness.

I can never feel comfortable with myself when I’m around my family either. I loathe it. I’ve never understood people who hang out with their families all the time, cause I feel like every conversation is a test. Like they’re trying to make sure they’ve raised the perfect child.

Have you ever gotten in a fight with your parents and the whole time you just want to scream to them ‘I’m gay’.

I do.

I don’t know, maybe it’s not as relatable as I thought.

Shit, I forgot to tell you, well you already know but you (the journal you), you don’t know. I was at Jason’s, and well actually I stuck to vodka this time. And a white claw and Smirnoff ice, the original kind (not that it's important but that kind’s just refreshing you know).

See I promised you and I kept it.

But anyways I did that whole bad idea thing and I snapped you. And no not like a regular snap (I like to send the ones where my dimples show), but a video snap.

I know, embarrassing. But you snapped back, and so I snapped back. Yeah yeah, so you get the gist now.

This morning I apologized though, cause I'm not quite sure about the details but I must’ve been a mess.

And you said ‘Nah it was cute’. So there I did it. The real you wouldn’t know, but your response set a cage of butterflies free in my stomach.

Again I’m asking myself “what now?”, and I guess you and I will just have to wait and see. Goodnight Sam.

Thanks for listening,

Grizz

“Only the belated certainty comes to matter much I suppose, and, when it does, comes to seem as immutable as roses” 

John Ashbery _Flow Chart_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	5. I’ll see you tomorrow,

Dear Sam,

So here’s a general life update for you. We’ve been talking a lot at school. Well, really it’s safe to say we’ve been flirting.

I mean I think it’s flirting? Honestly, I have no clue. I know it must be hard for you to believe since I’m so suave and charming and all. Okay okay, I’m kidding.

It’s a disaster, really _I’m_ a disaster. You, you’re a beautiful untouchable godly disaster. A heartbreaking, soul-stealing, sweep me off my feet kind of disaster.

Though usually, as soon as everything is good, life comes crashing down on me again. So I’m waiting. Not that it’s your fault, but better to be cautious yeah?

The other night I went for sushi with my parents, it was actually nice. Hey, I can like my parents sometimes. In very specific situations that have entirely no conflict.

It doesn’t make them good at what they’re supposed to do.

Anyways I got this dumbass fortune that says “adversity is the parent of virtue.'' I guess that means I’m lucky?

Being repressed and gay could one day make me a more virtuous person. Could link to Aristotle's view of happiness too, you know being gay could make me happier in the long run.

I‘ll let you know when I get to the end. All of this shit is probably false anyway.

Who really knows? But yeah I guess my parents can be tolerable, so long that they don’t know I find you wildly attractive.

I’ve picked up a few more sign language books. No, not BSL I’m not making that mistake twice. God, I can’t believe I did that. I’ve also consulted my good friend YouTube. Occasionally Becca when I  _ really _ don’t get it (but I swear if she tells you).

The point is that I’m trying.

And I'm excellent at New Year's resolutions this year, who knew? I’ve got so much homework, I swear our school is awaiting our demise.

I’ll see you tomorrow,

Grizz

“There is no parting. There is only the fading, guaranteed by the label, which lasts forever.” 

John Ashbery  _ Flow Chart _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	6. Cheers to my future demise,

* * *

Dear Sam,

To be honest I forgot about this journal for a bit. It sat in my bedside drawer for maybe a month (who knows)?? And in the search for my copy of Jane Eyre, I happened upon it. Funny how things happen.

It’s sad to say I haven't had so much free time to think about you lately. But if it makes you feel better nobody’s come to take your place. And there’s football workouts and weekends with the guys and dealing with my beloved parents.

Besides, I’m supposed to be thinking about college soon.

You know, I’m never going to receive as much mail as I do being a prospective student. I think about it all the time-how, after my college search is over, I’m never going to be in such high demand.

College is really your biggest enemy right now, and college sends me mail first. You, however, will never be able to respond. I guess the whole nonresponse factor is by design. If I never actually tell you you can never let me down.

I’ve got too much experience at being let down, to actually say any of this shit to you.

You’re pretty gay. Do you ever think that it would just be easier to be a girl so you would be able to like guys without anyone caring?

I mean I’m comfortable with myself and my gender, I just wish all of this could be easy. If I were bi I could just pretend to be straight until all of my family is dead except me. I guess that wouldn’t work.

It all boils down to me being a product of our heteronormative society.

Oh, I learned how to say basic shit in sign language. The next step is to talk to you in sign language. See the thing about signing (for me at least) is that I mess it up so easily. And then comes the contradicting mindset that I have to be perfect at something or not do it at all.

While I typically lean towards the latter, I’m currently aiming towards the former.

Also while we’re on the point of self-deprecation and identity and all the other fun stuff. Do you think you’re gonna be one of those people who dies young or old?

I’ve always thought I’d die too soon. Like I’ll finally taste the bliss of life and understand the moral greyscale of humanity, just to die in a tragic car accident.

I wonder if people who die young can experience happiness as Aristotle sees it. I’d like to believe ‘yes’ for my benefit, but the ‘no’ option seems way more realistic.

Realism and truth, those things have yet to fail me. Yet believing and hoping always seem like they’re laced with light and happiness. If you are hope and I am truth there is a great chasm between us.

But when I’m leaning towards you I can see the light, the hope, and somehow in some way, it all seems better.

If I could just kiss your lips before my death, I think I could call this a happy life.

Cheers to my future demise,

Grizz

“In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.”

Jane Eyre (Chapter 23)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	7. See you in my dreams,

* * *

Dear Sam, 

It’s late (4:00 am), and you would probably tell me to sleep right now. But that's the thing I can’t. I guess it’s just one of those nights. 

I just re-read all of my entries in this thing, and the last one was pretty loaded. I’m sorry.

I like to think the negative and positive things balance out. Just so I can have hope after something overwhelmingly negative occurs that something positive of the same level will follow. 

There are problems with that though. Like if everything balances out, the sum of your experiences can never be positive. And some people say everything is negative (though I think they’re just negative people).

I don’t really know how it fits into the whole Aristotle thing either (I’m realizing that this has become my new measurement for other philosophic ideas, and I profusely apologize for being repetitive). 

I’m thinking though that the way you impact the world around you matters a lot when assessing the end of your life. So, in that case, the whole positive and negative isn’t supposed to fit. Or maybe it does, I’ve never thought myself to be an expert I just think about things.

The whole point of that anyways was that the last entry was heavy, so I’m bound to eventually write about some equally positive occurrences.

In other news, Clarke’s been upset now since Gwen broke up with him. Not to bash him or anything, but I didn’t know he felt that way about her. I’m impressed that has deep feelings but the debris of this is too much to handle. 

All he wants to do now is get stoned and watch Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Which is a great movie, until you’ve watched it practically ten times. 

I don’t think Clarke gets it contextually, much less inebriated. 

But ultimately the weed and violence distract him for a solid three hours, and he doesn’t think about Gwen. I’ve tried to tell him there are better coping mechanisms, but I don’t think he cares. 

Hopefully next time he wants to watch a different movie. I’m thinking I could see Endgame again (the asses in that movie are just fantastic).

I signed hello to you yesterday too, and I did it right. Which I think was just as much a surprise to you as it was to me. We just spoke to each other after that, but a start is a start anyway.

Dream a Little Dream of Me is so stuck in my head right now. The version by the Mama’s and Papa’s (Ella Fitzgerald sings a mean version too though).

I dream most nights. Sometimes you’re there. It kind of makes me angry when you are, because you already occupy my waking thoughts. Then you worm your way into my sleep. It’s not like I chose to like you. You were just there all effortlessly beautiful and charming, and I couldn't help it.

I really ought to sleep Sam.

See you in my dreams,

Grizz

In Dreams I Kiss

Your Hand, Madame

Like those feelings we can never throw out.

He would be tired, or outraged, 

Never satisfied to light on a peak

In a distant mountain range,

Like dreaming, but not enough.

Which reminds me that I dreamed I was walking

on stilts, last night. A little girl

gave them to me, and said it was easy

To walk on them, which it wasn't, though

It wasn’t too difficult either,

Just a little scary. I wore long pants

That covered the stilts, and was surprised

That no one thought I was any taller,

Or almost noone. But I soon forgot

About them as did the people around me

like the mannequins often seen

In store windows, though not so much anymore.

(Yes, Sam, I wrote all this out. And yes, I am going to sleep now. Goodnight)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts + suggestions in the comments :))  
> You can also always reach me on my tumblr: slytherubbish


	8. Until tomorrow,

Dear Sam,

You were at the bookstore today. This will perhaps be the most cliche thing I ever write down, but you looked like an angel.

Completely and wholly divine. Just sitting there with Becca smiling, laughing at jokes, sipping warm coffee. You just looked so  _ alive _ at that moment.

That’s what I want so desperately. To feel alive.

I swear your smile makes my heart ache. You know that deep warm feeling inside that you only get when you’re completely engrossed in a love story. Or, I guess, when you have feelings for someone. 

Just looking at you makes me feel like that, but multiply it by a thousand. Then add a racing heartbeat, and an almost nervous meltdown every time I think about my situation.

And the whole time I felt like a complete dick. Because Clark was meeting me there, because I promised him I’d help him study for our English test tomorrow, but mostly because he can’t ever know.

So yeah I felt like I dick. Sitting there, only a few tables across from you, saying absolutely nothing. Barely even sparing a glance, because I know my eyes say everything my rationality won’t let out of my mouth.

Who even knows what would happen if I did? I guess there are two ways it could go: 

Clark would think something was up and he’d bug me about it. Then if they caught me chatting you up again—I mean they’d figure it all out. 

They know I never talk to girls. They’ve already asked me about my sexuality before, though only in that weird straight guy way. You know where they’re trying to make sure I’m  _ not _ gay.

Then after that, I’d be done, a goner. 

Or, you happen to have feelings for me too. Creating a reason for all the madness. A reason to not care what they think. Why pay the price of all of it, of my reputation if you don’t even care about me at all. 

What does that leave me with?

Up until today, I was sure you were into me. We spent practically every break together at school yesterday, and I’m still pretty damn sure you’re into guys. 

But it could be my mind playing tricks on me, I could be completely wrong about everything. That’s what scares me. That I could risk everyone in my life hating me all for you, just for you to not care. 

The more I think about it, there’s no way you’re actually into me. 

No one’s wildest dreams come true. Except in fairytales, and I’m not a fucking princess anyways. 

It’s real life. It’s messy, it makes absolutely no sense, and the pain antagonizes me.

What does it even matter?

Until tomorrow,

Grizz

“haunted by memories both reluctant and relaxed, as long as it wants to take you away. But beware the instant in which it doesn’t: utopias can crumble in that split second, and you may wake up finding you have more than you ever wanted to own, but by that time the dream is falling in on itself in slow motion or someone is dismantling it.”

  
John Ashbery  _ Flow Chart _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! 
> 
> I know it’s been a while since I last updated. I actually just started college recently (gotta love zoom university).
> 
> Anyhow in recent news regarding this fic:
> 
> I’ve gone through and edited every chapter and ended up adding some stuff. If you haven’t read in a while it might be worth it to reread!
> 
> You can definitely expect more chapters! This is my favorite fic I’ve ever written and writing it is just really fun. I have a good idea of how it’s all going to turn out, so I hope you’ll join me for the long haul :))
> 
> sorry to have a long endnote! As always my tumblr is syltherubbish feel free to follow and chat with me! My messages are always open. 
> 
> Until you read again,  
> Julia


	9. May luck be on our side,

Dear Sam,

I told myself I was going to ignore you today. And I did, for half the day. Then it was like my mind was saying no but my body was on autopilot.

So I had lunch with you. Sue me, at least I’m taking little steps.

There wasn't any specific reason. I just feel like I’m embarrassing myself, and that you don’t really want to hang out with me.

The truth is I’m a weak man, and I’d rather eat with you than with anyone else.

The boys have been asking me what I’m up to. I keep telling them I’m trying to keep my grades up, and that I’m working on college essays. Which is true, somewhat.

Really though I’ve been hanging out with you and Becca after practice. Besides you’ve been asking me to help you with your English paper, and as previously mentioned I just can’t say no to you.

So we’ve been going to that cafe close to campus. Sometimes I buy your coffee, but it’s a low price to pay for your company.

You like lattes. Vanilla lattes. I take mine black. Usually with a croissant or whatever baked good, they have available. 

God, I wish I could just tell you everything. We could have one of those sappy movie moments, where you realize I’ve been in love with you for all this time so you run up to me and kiss me until we’re both certain that we’ll faint. 

We’re too smart for that though, or maybe realistic is a better word. Maybe if what's going on between us is real, if time and fate and all of that bullshit align how they’re supposed to, we'll have our own sort of sappy movie.

Our last football game is this Friday, I think Campbell’s got some rager planned. Hopefully, you’ll be there and I’ll be there. Hopefully, luck will be on my side. 

It’s crazy that this year passed by so quickly. That football is basically already over, and most of my college applications are filled out. I’m applying to a lot of schools but I’m hoping to get at least 2 hours away from here. 

Somewhere big. Somewhere where I can be forgotten. Where I’m just a person, and nothing matters anymore. Anyway I’ll see you soon.

May luck be on our side,

Grizz

“to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.''

Ralph Waldo Emerson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Hope everyone's having a good day :)) 
> 
> As always you can reach out to me on tumblr it's slytherubbish
> 
> See you again soon,  
> Julia


	10. You’re absolutely perfect,

Dear Sam,

Oh my fucking god. I just got home and when I tell you I ran to grab this journal, I really fucking ran. I have to write all of this down.

Seriously I’m gonna get every fucking detail right because I never want to forget this moment. 

So we had our last football game of the season, we won. We’re not amazing or anything-I mean we’re pretty good- but we were put up against a bad team on purpose. You know how they do that so we can feel good about ourselves.

I swear football is just a breeding ground for toxic masculinity. I never loved it. I enjoyed it, I like being on a team, but my parents made me do it and I guess I just never wanted to quit. 

But the important part comes after the game.

So Campbell _did_ throw a huge party. Everyone was invited, your parents weren’t home. God, I hope you guys can clean up that mess in time.

So yeah there was a party. Of course, I went. I wanted to get drunk this week’s been so fucking long, but really I went because I knew you’d be there.

You were at the game. Well, I invited you to come when we were studying the other day, and I didn’t think you would but here’s the thing you did. 

After the game, I came up to you and Becca, and Becca said you guys were going to the party and I was absolutely elated. 

I was late getting there. I stopped back by my house to shower real quick and make sure I looked nice. I guess that’s kind of lame. I put on my favorite shirt though. You told me you liked it one time and now every time I wear it I think about you.

So I get there and the boys are there and they make me take 3, no maybe 4, shots. I told them no more after that. I couldn’t stand another distraction, I had to find you.

Then I did. You were wearing the same thing as you were at the game. A school t-shirt and these jeans that make your ass look like fucking Captain America’s. If we ever date (knock on wood) I swear you’re never throwing those out. 

But we talked for a while, a long while. And you asked me if I wanted to see your room.

Then there we were sitting on _your_ bed, just talking about life and school and everything. You know how I’ve been practicing sign language? Yeah well, my skills were apparently fucking fantastic because I signed ‘kiss me’ to you.

And you fucking did it. Well, we did it, we kissed. For a while really. 

Honestly, I don’t know how my body could ever handle doing more than that. Because just kissing you felt insane. Like I was being burned alive from the inside, and god was it good. It was like everything I had ever imagined and more, so much more. 

We kept talking for hours after that, about being gay. About why I never said anything. About how beautiful I think you are. Somehow, as if you weren’t already devastatingly handsome before, the blush that spread about your face made you look even more irresistible. 

I woke up in your bed this morning, limbs tangled together. You asked me to take you out on a proper date. I guess I’ll see you this weekend. 

Sam, you’re too beautiful for me to handle it emotionally, so this journal is my only option. I’m like a cup overflowing with thoughts of you, and what am I to do? I hope, god I hope, with every fiber of my being that I’ll never forget any of this. I can’t wait until next Saturday.

You’re absolutely perfect,

Grizz

“You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.”

John Keats _Selected Letters_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really fun to write! More to come soon.
> 
> Tumblr is slytherubbish
> 
> until you read again,  
> Julia


	11. I’m sorry I really am,

Dear Sam,

What I realized between now and the last entry is that I completely forgot to be terrified. For a second I wasn’t, and I let myself feel like it could all be real. 

For that one moment when we were together when I felt your lips touch mine, it all felt possible. But it’s not, and I’m sorry. 

I forgot to realize what you cost. That sounds completely impersonal but I know you’d understand. Before all of this, before you and your beautiful fucking eyes and face, I was just going to wait until college. Move so far away that nobody would recognize me, and just stop caring entirely.

Except that you’ve entirely ruined all of my plans. It’s all ruined really, and I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I’m trying to think about this logically, use my brain and not just my heart. And my brain always brings me back to my parents and my friends, and all of it is too much. 

It’s too much for one person to handle. 

I know I promised you. The date and everything, and I meant it-I really did. But I can’t stop thinking. 

That’s my problem. I’ve always wondered what my fatal flaw is. Odysseus had hubris, Achilles was arrogant, Hamlet doubted himself, you get it the list goes on. 

If I were some written character in someone’s story mine would be that I think too much. I don’t know what they call that but I’m almost positive that’s my problem. My minds fucking thinking at six hundred miles per hour all the fucking time and it never stops. Never gives me a break. 

Unless I write. Or if you’re around. When you're there it’s like I can concentrate on you and everything else blurs out into utter nothingness. 

The point is that I don’t think I can do it. Maybe I’m a coward, well I know I’m a coward. And maybe Aristotle would think I’m barely even trying to be happy at all. 

Time works in weird ways Sam, and maybe time isn’t on my side. Maybe the present isn't for us. I'm sorry-fuck-I'm really sorry. I'm trying to stay calm, but nothing around me seems calm at all. I wish it could all just stop.

I’m sorry I really am,

Grizz

“We all live in the past now. And so the children must still hang on somewhere, though no one is quite sure where or how many or what paths there are to be taken in darkness. Only the fools, the severed heads, know.”

John Ashbery  _ Flow Chart  _ (pg 30)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.. sorry to make this one angsty but I gotta make y'all suffer a little
> 
> anyways my Tumblr is slytherubbish feel free to message me!! and as always thank you so much for reading, it makes writing all of this worth it :))
> 
> Much love,  
> Julia


	12. Write soon,

Dear Sam,

It’s been a week since I’ve last written. I keep staring at this journal, I guess I’m looking for answers but I don’t have any. I haven’t spoken to you since the party.

It makes me guilty. Writing in here does, and I should feel guilty. I can’t imagine how you feel. It seems wrong though writing to you and not talking to you at all. That used to be the best part of having this journal. That I could confide in you and talk to you without actually having to do any of it.

But now it has the complete opposite effect. I can’t talk to you, or at least I shouldn’t, and the only person I have to confide in is you. The irony of it all is deafening. 

Without you in my life there’s not much to talk about. It’s all really mundane. I guess I can update you about my life. 

Football is over, but the boys and I have been hanging out a ton. We made like a uh high school bucket list. I thought it was kinda stupid-so did Luke, but Jason and Clarke were really adamant. Anyways the list is as follows:

  1. Get insanely high at school (you would’ve thought we’d have accomplished this by now)
  2. Have a party at Jason’s lakehouse
  3. Get Grizz a girlfriend (yes, they're still on it. No, it’s not gonna happen.)



We already checked off number one. That was on Wednesday. I couldn’t really tell if the teachers knew. I’m sure they did. It was fun, but I’m never doing that again. 

English was weird. Words hit differently when I’m high, they always have. We were reading Coleridge that day, his stuff is really weird on its own, reading his stuff high was a whole new experience. 

The boys are doing well. Luke is obviously still with Helena, I think things are getting pretty serious with them. They’re planning on doing long distance when we go to college. Clarke is way over Gwen. Since he turned 18 he’s been hooking up with girls from tinder at least once a week. Jason is just Jason. I never really know what he’s up to if I’m being honest. 

My parents are still my parents. They’re on my ass about college stuff. I never told them I applied to schools in New York. They thought I was staying in Connecticut, and when they figured out it was a whole shitstorm. 

I figure if I get enough scholarship money none of it will matter anyway and I’ll just leave. Then all my problems will magically dissolve. 

Life isn’t like that but it’s much easier to pretend it could be than to face reality. 

We’re going to Jason’s lake house this weekend. Clark’s older brother bought us six bottles of vodka, and we went to the place that doesn’t card for beer and white claw.

You’d figure at least one of us has a fake considering all the drinking we do, but we usually just go to places that don’t card us and ask Clark’s older brother or one of the older guys we used to play football with. 

We’re supposed to have a good amount of people there. It’s supposed to be the four of us, Erika, Olivia, Madison, Gwen (Clark invited her, I have no clue don’t ask), Harry, and maybe Campbell. 

We didn’t invite him, and I really don’t fucking want him to come. I hate the way he treats you, it fucking kills me Sam it really does. Anyways no, we didn’t invite him, but he always worms his way into our social events. 

Oh yeah, Helena is coming to babysit us. She doesn’t drink at all. It’s really not her style, which is great because we need at least one sane person there.

I think Harry also invited Allie. He and Kelly broke up earlier in the year, I think it was after homecoming. He never told us what happened, but I heard he was feeling up another girl and she ended it immediately. If I’m being honest, Harry is a really great guy but Kelly’s too good for him anyway. Allie and I have always gotten along, so I’m really glad she’s coming. 

I know this entry is really short. I wish there was more to tell you, wait actually I think I’ll leave it here and update you after this weekend. Be back soon.

God okay so it was insane. I rode there with the boys and rode back with Allie because we both had stuff to do that morning. Anyways, she gave me all the girl gossip. It’s actually really nice to be in the loop, besides I should hang out with Allie more we get along really well. 

I got totally and completely wasted, as expected. Here’s the rundown:

Campbell didn’t show up, I know thank god right?

Clark and Gwen are back together, and they hooked up every night on the trip. Which was pretty much exactly what all of us expected. It’s always been like that with them.

Jason and Erika were glued to each other's side, and Allie told me they had sex for the first time on the trip. Which is pretty expected, I know Jason’s really serious about her. He’s definitely had a track record with girls, but he’s surprisingly really serious about sex. 

Helena and Luke were pretty chill the whole time. Luke didn’t drink that much, and they were both trying to make sure we didn’t ruin the house. So there wasn’t much cleaning to do before we left. 

Harry and Allie had sex. Apparently they’d been hooking up for about two months before the trip started. I had no clue they’re definitely both good at hiding it. 

The boys didn’t bother me about girls this time since they were so preoccupied. Most of the time we just listened to music and swam in the lake. Oh God we also watched Midsommar while we were crossed, which was the strangest most disturbing experience of my life. 

I also told Allie. About everything. It was impulsive, and I was so drunk I guess I thought I wouldn’t remember it in the morning but I guess I did. I wanted someone who could understand, someone I could talk about everything with. 

She was really kind about it all, I was terrified when I told her, and it felt like a mistake at first. I thought my life was about to collapse in on itself, and it just  _ didn’t _ . 

She told me I really needed to talk to you about everything if I was still serious about you, and I know she’s right. Allie’s usually right about most things, I guess she gets it from her sister. She’s different from Cassandra though, in little ways. She’s not exactly careless, but she’s more relaxed than Cassandra is. 

Allie really cares about you Sam, and I really am glad I told her. Next time, when everything is better between us, I’ll invite you. Maybe we can be a little more careless too. 

Write soon,

Grizz

"It's time for a little chamber music of Arensky of Borodin, something minor and enduring, as we imagine ourselves to be, let that be a wake-up call, as the man said. When you turned up I thought you've got to stop me, I'm out of control but mature, so every step I take counts."

John Ashbery Quick Question (23)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments since I've last posted it really means a lot!!
> 
> As always my tumblr is slytherubbish  
> my messages are always open!
> 
> Much love,  
> Julia


	13. I'll be back soon,

Dear Sam,

Sometimes words evade me. In a weird nonsensical way where it’s not that I have nothing to say, but that nothing really fits. Or that somehow vocabulary limits me. I don’t know. It's hard to ascertain. 

The important bit is that it always happens when I think about you, or when I talk to you. Or really just anything having to do with you, it just feels like I never say the right thing. 

You know those fleeting moments of conversation. When everything seems right in the moment, and then before you fall asleep when you’re thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Somehow the right words just click, and you want to die right then. Because suddenly no matter how great anything had gone, the words could’ve been better. 

That’s the thing everything could always have been better. I guess I am that kind of person who plays over everything again and again. As if life is a script and I could change it all if I pleased. But no one can, or ever will be able to. 

When I write here I have all the time in the world to revise and rethink. To write everything down at once and erase it all moments later. All because it didn’t summarize the feeling as I wanted it to. In real-time, you can’t revise like that. You say something and that’s just it. It’s already said.

It’s one of life’s strangest aspects, that once you’ve said something it’s out there in the world somewhere. 

I wonder where words even go once they leave us? 

Probably tucked away in corners, strewn along like stars throughout the sky, winding their way through roots of tall trees. Trees with rings in their trunks growing in size and amount as time surely passes. 

Destined to one day fall over in a horrid storm, or be cut down for lumber. Or perhaps to be made into paper, for words to be written that will live longer than any word we ever spoke. Or even used to build a log cabin. Imagine Thoreau out there in the woods with walls of hidden words murmuring as he writes. 

A question that always arises in my mind is how long I’ll live. Not in the literal sense, but how long I’ll live in memory. 

Our human obsession with fame, all stems from a longing to be known. Maybe I’m mistaken and it all comes from the default hubris everyone somehow has, but maybe we all just want to live on in memory as long as we possibly can. 

Those trees, the ones that don’t live long enough to truly die. The ones that get chopped down to be made into cabins and lake houses. They live on in a different way right? 

Their structure could last longer than the ones that were left there in the forest. But the tree itself is gone, tainted in some way.

Despite being seen by more people. Despite housing many families, visitors, paintings, furniture, home-cooked meals, softly whispered conversations, and loud roaring laughter. Despite everything, the tree itself is dead. 

Perhaps that’s what fame is. It allows your memory to live longer than it was supposed to, but fame, the amplification of all the best and worst parts of you for all the world to see, it taints you in some inexplicable way. The log cabin in the woods will one day deteriorate, as will the person whose memory lives on longer than ours. 

The true danger of fame lies somewhere in that statement but my hands are getting too tired to delve into the idea. 

The point though, the thought that somehow accumulated all of these extra ideas and metaphors, the initial thought was this: 

When my body is withering away in some tattered old graveyard (though if I’m being honest I’d prefer cremation it wastes less space), when it all happens how long will I live on? 

I think existence is supposed to be finite, and I hope to be the tree that is never cut down. The one that lives in memory as long as it’s meant to. Seen only by the few who really knew them, who passed on their meaningful stories.

I suppose I’d dissolve into some strange non-existence after that. Maybe that day, the day in which I am forgotten, that will be the day I truly die. 

I live to one day die Sam. The sheer reality of life is death. I want to accept it as it is.I live only to live my life to the fullest. So that when I die my memory will live as long as it’s meant to.

There’s this quote by Thoreau that always finds its way to my mind. 

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” 

We read it in English class last year. I latched onto it somehow, as if it were the answer to everything. If not, many things I had been wondering about. 

He highlights that time is fleeting. But the thing about Thoreau is he fully realized that and decided to truly live. He completely uprooted himself. He knew time was finite, he knew that so many people lived a life without truly living it, and he set out to do exactly what they didn’t dare to. 

He lived, Sam he truly lived. Ignored society entirely and did exactly as he wanted, and I don’t do that at all. I don’t think I ever have.

I think my last entry was a week ago. I haven’t talked to you the entire time, and it was the absolute worst decision of my life. 

No apology came out of my mouth then, nothing was said or signed to you. No unscripted words were sprawled out into the world to lie with the roots of the trees, and I grew so bored. I didn’t want to hang out with the guys and hear them talk about my supposed terrible luck with girls. 

I was angry, I was filled with an omnipresent rage. Mad at my friends, mad at my parents, but mostly with myself. I argued with my parents over every little thing. It didn’t matter what it was, I just lashed out. And sometimes it got really bad. 

I act all stoic in front of them, mostly in front of my dad. 

Last night it got really bad. He told me I was weak, that I should’ve tried harder in football this year. That I probably fucked up my chances of playing in college. 

What he really wants is for me to be perfect. To be the perfect man. To play football, go to a college that he’s picked out, get a boring job, and marry some beautiful woman. Which would be great if I wanted that. If I were one of those people who never really wanted to try any harder than I had to. If I were someone like Harry. 

But I’m not like him, and I don’t want any of that. I tried so hard to put up my usual facade, to pretend none of it mattered. I tried so hard not to look at him, he was too livid and I was too fragile. 

Then he told me, he screamed at me to look him in the eyes, to look at him while he yelled at me. The disappointment in his eyes hurt almost as much as his sharp dragging words. His words don’t escape into the unknown. They linger and they fester in my mind, and they replay over and over. 

The tears started slowly; they crept up like the beginnings of rainfall. I tried to keep together because I don’t want him to know how much it hurts. I don’t want him to know he has that kind of power over me. I don’t want it to hurt anymore. 

But it did Sam, god all of it hurts so much. 

He kept pushing, and I got angrier and I knew my facade was cracking. I was terrified that he’d see me cry, which only made it worse. It felt like he was waiting for me to push back, to prove to him that I’m not as weak as he thinks I am. My dad is arrogant and he’s wrong about most things, but the truth is I’m a coward.

And just when I thought I had myself together, that I could stand it. He asked me why I hadn’t had a fucking girlfriend yet, said something like “if you can’t play football well enough you should at least be able to get a girlfriend Grizz it’s not that fucking hard. Jesus Christ why can’t you just be a normal kid.” 

Then the dam broke, and I couldn’t stop the flood of tears. I was in hysterics at that point. 

The lump in my throat weighed down my whole body, and I hiccupped through every breath trying to grasp at a sense of sanity. When I spoke my words were broken and barely louder than a whisper. 

I told him I’ve tried, that I’ve tried to be as normal as possible. That I try so hard to be a good son, to be perfect for him. That I was sorry I wasn’t good enough. My chest was spasming, and I couldn’t breathe.

I had finally retaliated, but I wasn’t strong and my words couldn’t hit him like his hit mine. I wanted so badly to punch him, but I knew he’d hit back harder. I knew if that happened everything would be worse. 

Then my mom walked in, and it was all a blur after that. She told me to go upstairs, and I heard them yelling at each other for hours. 

That night I couldn’t fall asleep, it was like it all washed over me and I couldn’t shake it away. The anger, the disappointment in his eyes, and the words all of the words. All of his expectations loom so large that I think they might kill me.

I woke up that morning earlier than normal, my eyes were swollen and rimmed red. When I went downstairs to grab breakfast my mom had already set the table, and she was cooking eggs and bacon. 

Their argument must have been really bad because she said dad went to go stay with his brother for a few weeks. My uncle lives in upstate New York in this great big house. He’s older than my dad and married to this blonde woman who’s fifteen years younger than him. 

My Dad's only left like this once before when he made me quit tap dancing. The way he talked to me then made my mom so upset that she’d asked him to leave, but I still had to quit. 

I think my mother is afraid of him. I know she loves him, but it’s gotten to be so hard. She used to tell me these idyllic stories about when they first fell in love in college, and about how handsome and kind he was. They had been married for eight years before they had me. 

My dad never wanted kids, and my mom thought she couldn’t get pregnant. She said they used to call me their miracle baby. When my dad’s parents heard the news they drove down to see my parents. That night they got in a car crash, the police said it was a drunk driver. Both of them passed away. 

My mom told me that he’d never been the same since then. I know he thinks it my fault it happened, that I’m the reason they’re gone. It’ll get better. It has to get better. 

I’ll be back soon, 

Grizz 

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear, nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." 

Henry David Thoreau _Walden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a hefty chapter there's more fluff to come I promise (no seriously I promise) Hope you're all doing well :)) Thank you so so much for reading this fic, and especially for the kudos and comments. It makes it all worth it!! 
> 
> as always my tumblr is slytherubbish  
> feel free to follow or chat with me my messages are always open! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Julia


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